


Mark and Clark

by FanFicReader2016



Series: Naismiths and Vorkosigans [1]
Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Genre: Bujold Ficathon 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-21 21:59:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15567216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanFicReader2016/pseuds/FanFicReader2016
Summary: Mark meets the Naismiths.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kateydidnt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kateydidnt/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by [kateydidnt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kateydidnt/pseuds/kateydidnt) in the [Bujold_Ficathon_2016](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Bujold_Ficathon_2016) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
>  
> 
> Anything with Mark or Miles interacting with their never-seen Naismith uncle and/or cousins. What does that branch of the family think or make of their Vorkosigan relatives?

“Are you nervous?” Kareen Koudelka asked Mark Vorkosigan as their passenger ship approached the Betan orbital station.

“Hell, yes,” he replied. “I’m about to go live with a little old lady I’ve never met. She’ll probably hate me. Everybody probably hates me for getting Miles killed.”

“I don’t hate you,” Kareen refuted, reaching for his hand. “None of that was your fault. You were trying to do a good thing, rescuing those clones. You didn’t know what would happen. Besides, Miles is fine, back to doing whatever the hell it is he does.”

Three people were waiting when they disembarked. Mark recognized them instantly. What shocked him, however, was they didn’t look like three generations. No, 96-year old Elizabeth Naismith looked more like 67-year old John Naismith’s old sister. And maybe the mother of 35-year old Scarlett.

“Those people are definitely related to Tante Cordelia,” Kareen whispered. “That must be your cousin. She’s so pretty!”

“Scarlett looks exactly like my mother,” Mark said mournfully. “God knows what she’s going to say. She’ll probably ask about our sex life.”

“If she does, I’ll call her out for being rude,” Kareen promised. “We don’t have Betan earrings yet. Wait, what does your grandmother’s earring mean?”

“Widowed, not looking. Miles warned me not to ask. Okay, here we go.”

To Mark’s surprise, everyone was very pleasant. Especially Uncle John, who told Kareen she looked just like her beautiful mother. “Only met her once, but we’ve seen hundreds of holos and vids over the years. Cordelia doesn’t visit often, but she’s an excellent correspondent.”

“Father said to ask about their first State Visit,” Mark recalled.

“We’ll wait for dinner for that one,” Elizabeth stated firmly, the gray eyes her grandsons shared alight with laughter. “Let’s get you settled. Lenore’s waiting.”

Elizabeth’s friend Lenore was a bustling, cheerful woman who routinely rented out her spare bedroom to what she called ‘Cordelia’s girls.’ “We’ve been waiting for you for months, every since you won the scholarship,” she gushed. “Elizabeth was ever so excited. And when Mark decided to come, too, well, it was like she won the lottery. How do you like your room?”

“It’s perfect,” Kareen assured her, ecstatic that Lenore’s apartment was just down the hall from Elizabeth’s. “I love the desk!”

“You students spend a lot of time on your comconsoles. Seemed like a good investment.”

Their first dinner was small, just them, their hosts, John, and his wife Sarah. Elizabeth was a good cook. She’d obviously been warned about Mark’s metabolism, because there was more than enough for ten normal-sized adults.

“Mother misses cooking for Sergeant Bothari,” John teased. “That man could eat!”

“That year was an adventure,” Elizabeth agreed. “15 was too young for Miles to be so far from home. His more recent visits have been much calmer. And of course I love seeing Elli. She’s so sweet.”

“Elli Quinn?” Mark stuttered. “Sweet?”

“Not on the job, she’s not,” Sarah concurred with a sharp smile. “But here, yes. Didn’t anyone tell you she lived with Grandma after a plasma accident? She had all the repair work done here.”

“As one would,” Kareen agreed. “Tante Cordelia’s convinced Betan medicine is the best. Some things, like my da’s nerve disrupter injuries, Barrayar’s still playing catch-up.”

“It is, in a lot of things,” Elizabeth stated. “Certainly anything appearance-related. Did Cordelia warn you about how common gender changes have become here? I can see doing it once or twice, but four or five times is just silly.”

“Especially if you change your name each time,” Sarah added. “Makes it hard to track work history, or so Scarlett tells us. She and her partner work for the Bureau for Interstellar Trade. She’s in Human Resources; he’s in Accounting. You need help with your schoolwork, Mark, James is your guy. Kareen, are you studying business, too?”

“No, it’s social sciences for me,” Kareen answered. “I like learning about people.”

“Mother can teach you all about starting them,” John teased. “She did a hell of a job on Clark. He’s twice the troublemaker J.J. is.”

“Nurture plus nature,” Elizabeth shot back. “Blame yourself.”

“Our sons are perfectly nice people,” Sarah insisted. You’ll meet them over the weekend. And J.J.’s family, of course. He and Debbie have Johnny and Timmy. They’re 8 and 2. Scarlett’s Paul is 5. Clarke’s not partnered. He’s too busy working and going to school part-time.”

They’d discover when they met him that 25-year old Clark had a far more active social life than his parents imagined. With the family and at work, Clark wore a ‘hetero, not looking’ earring. At Silica University and the clubs and bars he introduced the visitors to, it was ‘anything goes, no commitment.’

“I don’t understand my family’s rush to settle down and make babies,” Clark confided one night. “Plenty of time for that. Who says it has to be in the first quarter of a guaranteed 120?” 

“On Barrayar, it used to be fear of infertility. Less of an issue with replicator technology becoming more and more available,” Kareen explained. “Lenore doesn’t understand how rare my sister Olivia and I are. There aren’t many replicator babies in the 8 years between Miles and Olivia. More now, but certainly no other Count’s sons other than Miles and Mark. Some girls, but not sons.”

“And we’re not the best advertisement,” Mark grimaced. “But Mother insists it’s changing.”

“It is,” Kareen affirmed. “None of my friends wants to be pregnant. Mama says it’s miserable. And less safe for mother and baby. Why take those risks?”

“You’d have to ask my mother,” Clark suggested. “J.J. and Scarlett were body births. It’s kind of a status symbol here. Not very logical, though, considering practically everyone have the embryos gene-cleaned before implantation. Grandma and Aunt Cordelia thought Mother was nuts.”

Clark waited until Kareen had gone to the rest room to ask, “What’s with you two? I was sure you’d be sleeping together by now. I promise Lenore won’t care. Grandma won’t, either.”

“It’s…complicated,” said Mark, fingering his ‘hetero, attached’ earring. “Those of us raised by lunatics have some hang-ups. And the last thing I’d want to do is push Kareen into anything she’s not ready for. Most Barrayaran girls her age plan to wed as virgins.”

“How archaic! If not their peers, then who are the Barrayaran boys her age screwing?”

“Ivan says the lower classes, the boys, or older women. He also warned me not to lay a finger on the staff or I’d never hear the end of it. Miles mostly conducts his sex life off-world as Admiral Naismith. Unlike Ivan, Miles doesn’t kiss and tell, though. I suspect he’s got a mistress in Hassadar.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me in the least,” Clark said easily. “God knows how many of the Dendarii he’s screwed. Unlike me and Uncle Aral, though, he only looks at the women. The taller, the better.”

“Miles and my oldest sister would be a great match, except he likes brunettes,” said Kareen, rejoining the conversation. “Too bad. Delia would be an excellent countess. She’s smart, she loves Barrayar, and she understands soldiers. Not many people at home take Lieutenant Vorkosigan seriously. They see his body, not his mind.”

“Yes, well, you’re unique,” said Mark, kissing her hand. “You seem to like toads.”

“I wouldn’t if you were stupid,” she admitted, drawing gales of laughter from Clark. “Not that a Vorkosigan or Naismith would be, but you’ve also taken chances that could’ve scrambled your brains.”

“Gotten that lecture,” Mark grumbled. “Want to dance?”

“Yes, go dance, so I can check out the herm by the bar,” Clark urged. “It looks promising.”

Sure enough, Clark left with the herm. “Your place or mine?” Kareen asked.

“Whaaaat?” Mark stuttered.

“Come home with me. We’ll neck until we fall asleep. Nothing more unless we both agree.”

Mark was extremely proud of himself for keeping Grunt under control. It was difficult, especially after his hands began exploring Kareen’s luscious breasts. And as much as he wanted to sink into her muscled softness, he didn’t trust himself not to hurt her.

“Clark, I need an LPST,” Mark confessed to his cousin over beers a few days later.

“They’re a dollar a dozen,” Clark snorted. “Go on the comconsole and pick one. Or two or three or six, if that’s what you’re into.”

“I don’t want six,” he shuddered. “Just one, who can teach me how to make love to Kareen.”

“Did you ask your therapist? Most of them have a list they recommend.”

“We looked. Nobody’s right. I need a blond with martial arts training in case I lose control. I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“Too bad Sergeant Taura’s taken,” Clark joked before registering Mark’s expression. “Thought about it, didn’t you? Who hasn’t? You need someone who does BDSM. They’ve seen everything.”

“I don’t want to learn BDSM!” Mark protested. “I just want to be normal.”

“Normal is a very personal construct,” was the dry response. “People who get punished for a living should be able to withstand whatever sexual quirks you think you’ve got. Aunt Cordelia sent you here for a reason. Betan therapists have far too much experience fixing victims from the Whole.”

“Don’t tell me you believe everyone’s fixable!”

“Nope, sure don’t. Based on family history, I also don’t believe every Betan therapist always puts their patient first. Trust me, Grandma worked hard to narrow down a list of potential therapists for you. That’s because we all know you’re fixable. If you weren’t, Miles and Ivan would’ve died years ago.”

“Clark, you know I’ve KILLED people,” Mark said somewhat desperately.

“Kind of in your DNA, being the child of two ship captains,” Clark shrugged. “Unless you go into the mercenary business, you’ll never top their numbers. You had your chance, Mark. Uncle Aral lives because having killed doesn’t make you a killer. Doesn’t make you irredeemable, either.”

“You sound like Mother.”

“Well, I was raised by her brother,” he said reasonably. “J.J. idolizes her. My older brother still can’t believe the explorer aunt who read bedtime stories ended a civil war with a sword. That’s the stuff of fiction, cuz. Or adventure vids.”

“My parents’ entire life IS an adventure vid,” Mark groaned. “Normal people retire. Count and Countess Vorkosigan are taming another uncivilized planet.”

“Normal Betans don’t retire at 64 unless they’re independently wealthy or terminally ill,” Clark laughed. “Can’t see Aunt Cordelia doing nothing at the Betan equivalent of 40.”

“I wonder about that, too. Should I be planning for a Betan lifespan, a Barrayaran one, or something in between?”

“I imagine it’ll depend on what risks you take. Do us all a favor, okay? No more confronting Jacksonian barons. Let’s focus on getting you better from the last mad men.”

Clark was true to his word. Two days later, a link to Mistress Ruby appeared in Mark’s in-box. He felt a faint stirring in his loins as he looked at the Amazon clad in strips of black leather. The ache increased at the images of Mistress Ruby dressed in street clothes, demure nightwear, and blue ship knits like the ones Kareen used to exercise. Within minutes, he’d forwarded the link to his therapist. A day after that, Mistress Ruby had a brief history of his sexual abuse and a list of his therapeutic requirements. The following week, Mark had his first appointment. 

Mark left his first session with Mistress Ruby with homework. The enjoyable part was practicing kissing Kareen. Less pleasant were the long sessions with his therapist, dredging up memories of exactly what physical abuses Ser Galen and Baron Ryoval had heaped on him. Mistress Ruby wanted them fresh in his mind so they could gradually work to neutralize those torments. And they did. By the fourth session, Mark worked up the courage to take off all his clothes. By the eighth, he could look at a shock-stick without curling into a protective ball or trying to kick it out of Ruby’s hands. He’d also learned what he, Mark, enjoyed being done to his body, what images gave him pleasure and which left him cold. And after twelve intensive, informative weeks, he was pronounced ready to try his new skills on someone other than a professional. But where?

“You’re not ready for the Orb,” Clark snorted at the timid suggestion. “And Grandma’s place isn’t appropriate for the first time. Good thing you’re not a starving student because I have expensive tastes. Now hand over a credit chit and I promise you the night of your life.”

Clark consulted his sister for advice before booking a deluxe honeymoon suite at the Silica Grand Tower & Casino. They also selected a gourmet room service meal, champagne, and a dessert basket guaranteed to tempt the most jaded of palates.

And then everyone waited. For three entire days, until Mark and Kareen finally checked out of the hotel in time to attend their Tuesday classes. Grandma Elizabeth didn’t say a word when Mark finally walked through her front door. Neither did Lenore, who was used to Cordelia’s girls disappearing for days at a stretch as they tested their new freedom. None, however, had glowed as much as Kareen.

Clark waved off his cousin’s thanks for helping arrange everything so perfectly. Compared to all the work Mark was doing to conquer his demons, what was some time on the comconsole? Now all Clark had to do was talk Mark out of his stupid notion of locking himself in some creepy basement with insects. No, galactic Mark Vorkosigan was meant for far better things than being an ImpSec analyst. After all, Miles wasn’t the only one who’d inherited their parents’ management abilities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Through the early books, Cordelia’s brother has two children. In GJ&TRQ, Miles mentions three. I’ve made Clark 4 years younger than Miles (2 years older than Mark). I see those four years as being a huge gulf when Miles was 15, but not at all in adulthood.


	2. Commencement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All good things must come to an end, including Mark and Kareen's school years...

“You don’t really want to go to graduation, do you?” Mark asked his cousin.

“Hell, no,” Clark said emphatically. “Except it’s not optional. We don’t show up on time, ImpSec will burn down the city looking for us.”

“It’s all Mother’s fault. Why did she agree to be the commencement speaker?”

“Because Grandma would kill her if she said no,” Clark laughed. “And because the alternative was your father. That would’ve been a million times worse. Lots of Betans are offended he’s been put in charge of the planet he stole from us.”

“Half the time, I think he’d like to give it away,” Mark chortled. “Father doesn’t enjoy the environmental challenges nearly as much as Mother does. Doesn’t enjoy the resource shortage, either. I have plenty of business ideas, but he says I’m better off trying them on Barrayar first, where there’s an untapped workforce to be exploited.”

“Whereas your mother will paint Sergyar as the most interesting immigration challenge to come along in 40 years. And they’d both be right. I’m looking forward to visiting after graduation. I want to see a real hexaped. And I’ll bet lots of Sergyarans would love to boink a bona fide, sex-crazed Betan.”

“You’ll probably have your pick,” Kareen agreed as she swept into the apartment she and Mark shared. “Just stay away from anyone in ImpSec. You don’t want your aunt and uncle reading the mandatory after-action reports.”

“You think they’d write up their own sexual encounters?” Clark asked, totally flabbergasted.

“if it involves a member of the Vicereine’s family, absolutely. Da says there’s probably an entire storage room dedicated to Uncle Aral’s drunken exploits before he married Tante Cordelia. Remember, even with Prince Alexei and Prince Dmitri, Uncle Aral’s still third in line to the camp stool.”

“I try not to remember that, but the security cordon makes it hard. It’ll be nice to see Miles and Ekaterin again. And meet the twins and Nikki. I hope he’s not a sullen adolescent.”

“Only when ordered to do homework,” Kareen laughed. “Otherwise, he’s a great kiddo. Smart, kind, patient, beautiful manners. Even changes the occasional diaper, though Ekaterin and Miles work really hard to not make him feel that he needs to be another parent. Or the outsider. You know Miles. He started reading step-parenting book-discs right after Ekaterin proposed.”

“You’ll get along great,” Mark promised. “I stumble sometimes. Nikki knows my parents didn’t raise me, but is too young to understand that I didn’t have a normal childhood. It’s hard when he tries to compare stories about when I was his age. No, I didn’t have a jump ship collection. I had a pony because Miles did. Spent a lot of time being thrown, too. I don’t have Miles’ horsemanship. Never did. Maybe I would’ve if Count Piotr encouraged it personally.”

“Or if you had Ivan to compete against,” Kareen offered. “Miles tried his damnedest to keep up with him and Elena. Never mind what he broke in the process.”

“I can tell you exactly,” Mark grimaced. “Pain lines were about the only things we developed naturally. And our voices. I can still imitate Miles’ accents almost exactly, but it’s more of an effort to get the pitch right. Without the soltoxin, Miles would probably have been a bass like Father.”

“Yeah, probably,” Clark agreed. “You, too. I remember seeing some vid of Count Piotr. His voice was scary deep. Everything he said sounded like an order.”

“It was,” Kareen giggled. “Da has his moments, but he usually turns off the military at home. General Count Vorkosigan never did. Even when he was trying, he was still very scary to a little girl. Not that he cared much about us proles. Count Piotr’s probably still spinning in his grave that Gregor married Laisa instead of a proper Barrayar high Vor whose bloodlines crossed 50 times.”

“Do you think Miles ever worried about that?”

“Not being 5/8s Betan, he didn’t,” Mark replied. “Besides, Ekaterin’s from the South Continent. If their bloodlines crossed, it was too many generations back to matter.”

“As Tante Cordelia will tell you ad nauseum, being Barrayaran is a state of mind,” Kareen added. “And not for the faint-hearted, at least not in the circles she and my parents found themselves. Olivia certainly doesn’t have it easy. Vor dragons despise Dono, but also resent him marrying a nobody.”

“Looking forward to meeting Dono and Olivia,” Clark said cheerfully. “I’m sorry Martya and Delia aren’t coming, too. Make it a proper family reunion.”

“Too far,” Kareen dismissed. “We’ll have a celebration at home, I’m sure. It’s a good thing Olivia’s bring nannies because I’m sure Dono and Miles plan to work way too much aboard ship. Ekaterin’s probably got a load of work, too. I don’t know how she handles it all.”

“I’m sure not having to do household chores helps. I remember Miles’ student year. Grandma refused to let Bothari clear his plate for him, said he was here to live like a Betan, not the Count’s grandson. Training them both took a while.”

“I’ll bet that was a shock,” Mark laughed. “Grandma expected me to be a slob. Which I am, sometimes, but I eventually clean up after myself. Clark, what do you remember about Bothari?”

“Bothari was a very scary dude,” Clark shuddered. “I was a little jealous at first, until I realized that Miles had absolutely no privacy. I could go to the store for candy by myself; Miles couldn’t. And maybe Miles wouldn’t be so hyper if he wasn’t raised in the middle of a ten-ring-circus. How do you learn to turn it off if there’s always someone around?”

“Therapy,” was the decisive answer. “Lots of therapy. Easier on the liver than drinking.”  
\-----  
Several weeks later….

“Kareen, it’s time to stop cleaning,” Mark said patiently.

“But our families are coming!”

“To see us. Not to run white gloves in the corners looking for dust. Even Aunt Alys doesn’t do that anymore and I’m sure our mothers never did. And if you mess up the ImpSec vid pick-ups, they’ll just come back and install more. With sound. Do you want them listening to us having sex again?”

“No more than you want them listening to our business meetings,” Kareen said angrily as she surrendered her dust cloths and polish. “Miles catching that ImpSec mole cost us a lot of money.”

“As long as Miles learned his lesson about not using us as puppets, I don’t really care,” Mark admitted. “Don’t tell him that. Officially, I’m very angry MPVK was underbid on that lumber contract. Realistically, the business model is sound and we’ll make more in other locations. And while I don’t want to work fulltime for ImpSec, I’m happy to help root out bad apples that could ultimately put anyone but Alexei and Dmitri closer to the camp stool. Just tell us the plan first.”

“Not sure our security clearance is high enough for that,” was the rueful response.

“Then General Allegre has decisions to make,” Mark said coldly. “I’ve allowed internal monitoring here because it’s too hard to maintain an outer perimeter in an underground city. ImpSec’s not getting inside our next residence, no matter where it is. We want security, we’ll hire it ourselves. Now how about we get dressed up to go meet the relatives?”

The Emperor had kindly provided transportation for the Viceroy and Vicereine’s official visit to her home world. Sergyar Fleet’s flagship was flanked by several escort vessels when it reached the Betan orbital station. Aral and Cordelia patiently tolerated the official greeting ceremony that stood between them, their son, Grandma Elizabeth, and John and Sarah. Meanwhile, in another docking area, Kareen, J.J., Scarlett, and Clark welcomed Kou, Drou, Miles, Ekaterin, Dono, Olivia, a tween, four cranky toddlers, and two weary entourages of nannies and armsmen.

“Children for rent,” Dono offered as Helen reached for Scarlett’s hair and his son said “UP!” so he could pull on Clark’s relatively-new beard. “Please tell me the hotel has a play space.”

“Of course they do!” J.J. responded. “Gotta keep the kiddos occupied while the parents eat and gamble. I hope your armsmen brought other clothes so they can blend in.”

“Dono, I’m not wearing a sarong in public,” Olivia warned hastily as her husband’s eyes lit up, a sure sign a snarky remark was to follow. “I ordered earrings. Enough.”

“They’d better say committed and unavailable,” Kou growled as he hugged his youngest tight and surveyed her ear.

“Nothing says we can’t look, though,” Dono quipped as their security escort led them to the downside shuttle. “Lots of women should’ve waited until we got downside to dress like the natives. Yes, Clara, those are boobies,” he confirmed to his chattering young daughter. “Very cold boobies.”

“Sorry your parents missed this,” Ekaterin whispered to her husband as they fought to control their laughter at Kou’s and Nikki’s identical aghast expressions. “Traveling is broadening, right?”

“At least most aren’t on Nikki’s eye level,” Miles whispered back. “My first month here as a 15-year-old was almost a constant erection.”

Luckily for Nikki, servers at the Silica Grand Tower & Casino’s main restaurants were clothed. And with ImpSec doing the cleaning, it wasn’t really a problem at the hotel. Out in public was another matter. Cordelia laughed at her grandson’s expression when he spotted topless women jogging. “Not only does it look stupid, it’s painful,” she assured him. “Female Survey uniforms include brassieres.”

“That’s useful information,” Dono said at dinner that night. “One argument against integrating the Academy is the expense and inconvenience of providing personalized female undergarments.”

“98% of the time, that’s what laser tailoring and sonic cleaning is for,” Miles snorted. “Sergeant Taura’s the only woman the Dendarii ever had problems outfitting and that’s solely due to her height and claws. I used to wear female armor in a pinch. Also seen women use bandages as breast binding if that’s what was available. Experienced soldiers make it work.”

‘You watched women soldiers get dressed, Da?” wide-eyed Nikki asked.

“Not watched like you’re thinking, Son. Part of being in the military is accepting there’s no room for modesty on duty. Emergency alarm blares, people dress and report to their duty station. It doesn’t matter who’s next to you because your only goal is getting ready as quick as you possibly can.”

“And helping them if they need it,” Kou added. “Space armor’s not easy to get on and off. Not if you want to survive actually using it.”

“I hate space armor,” Aral confessed. “Watching my oxygen gauge always made me nervous. It’s part of why I love the Long Lake so much. Pure, unlimited oxygen!”

“What about breath masks?” Nikki asked. “Do they make you nervous?”

“Yes, they do," was the honest response. "I trust a lot to my security team, but I’ve never put on breathing apparatus without checking it first. Ask Kou. He’s only one in a long line of assistants I insulted by checking their work. Even Grandma knows not to waste her time checking my stuff because I’ll just do it again.”

“Took me a while to learn I wasn’t being tested,” Sergyar Fleet’s commanding officer said easily. Knowing Admiral Oliver Jole had once been Aral’s personal secretary, Mark hadn’t thought anything of his parents inviting the affable blonde to dine with them. “Especially doing armor drills twice a day on the Prince Serg’s shakedown cruise. As if rushing to the Hegen Hub wasn’t harrowing enough!”

“Had you met Admiral Naismith before that battle?” John asked Admiral Jole.

“No, never. I knew of the Dendarii, of course. And I’d met my boss’ son several times. Still, seeing him in a different uniform sounding EXACTLY like Lady Cordelia was very disconcerting.”

“I don’t know WHAT you mean,” Miles and Mark said in perfect Betan unison. “Who’s Lady Cordelia?”

“Did you practice that?” Dono gasped when he stopped laughing.

“Part of my conditioning,” Mark shrugged. “Throwaway lines like that are easy. Knowing how Miles will react in every given situation, well, that’s hard.”

“You know how I’ll react tomorrow,” Miles interjected, wanting to steer the conversation away from plots, counterplots, and breath masks. “Very, very proud. And maybe a little jealous. I only have one degree. This is your second. And Clark’s third.”

“And last, at least for a long while,” Clark stated. “Time to focus on my new job.”

“And maybe do some dating?” Sarah asked. “You are almost 29.”

“Yeah, maybe some of that, too. But don’t be dreaming of more grandchildren yet, Mother,” he warned. “I’m not ready for serious. I am ready for dessert, though.”

“What do you think of Admiral Jole?” Mark asked as they were waiting the next morning to be grouped into the proper sections for the academic procession. “He seems your type. Tall, blonde, bi.”

“Except his earring’s a lie,” Clark snorted. “That man is so taken, he might as well wear one of those wedding rings Barrayarans set so much store by.”

“I must’ve missed something,” said Kareen. “I don’t think he mentioned dating anyone.”

“I don’t think I’d call it dating, exactly. He’s madly in love with Uncle Aral.”

“But is Father in love back?” Mark asked, surprisingly unperturbed by his cousin’s claim.

“Don’t know him well enough to say, but I suspect so,” Clark stated.

“You’re going to say my Barrayaran is showing, but that could be a problem,” Kareen fretted.

“Why? Whatever’s going on, Aunt Cordelia knows all about it. And it’s nobody else’s business but theirs. Especially not Miles, if you’re thinking of telling him. He’s got enough secrets of his own.”

“We all do,” Mark said slowly. “Ones we can’t share because they’d cause so much pain. No point ripping open more scars when for the first time, we’re all in a good place. For all the complaining, Mother and Father love Chaos Colony. Miles has Ekaterin, the kids, and his auditorial chain. And I, I have MPVK and the most wonderful, beautiful woman in the nexus as my partner.”

“That sounds very flattering and mature,” Kareen admitted. “But is it fair to Miles not to warn him? What if this blows up into some huge scandal?”

“Then I’ll do something outrageous to deflect it to me. People remember Father screwing Ges Vorrutyer. Screwing another man wouldn’t be half so shocking as me admitting I killed Baron Ryoval. Let’s be realistic, Kareen. I could lose everything on Barrayar and it wouldn’t make an ounce of difference because I’ve already got enough to keep us comfortably for the rest of our lives. Maybe not enough to build you your own Vorkosigan House, but enough. So really, what’s the downside of keeping our mouths shut and letting my family be happy?”

“The explosion when Miles eventually finds out?” Kareen said drily.

“Kareen, Miles wasn’t faithful to any woman until he met Ekaterin. He can’t hold Father to a standard he didn’t practice himself. Not if it doesn’t bother Mother. Which it obviously doesn’t or Oliver wouldn’t have been invited to a family dinner. Hell, I’ll bet Grandma knows all.”

“We are NOT asking her!” Clark shuddered as someone came to chivy them into their separate lines. “I will NEVER be old enough for her take on the situation.”

“Fair enough,” Mark agreed. “Now let’s go listen to Mother’s speech, get our diplomas, and make Grandma and our parents proud.”

**Author's Note:**

> Through the early books, Cordelia’s brother has two children. In GJ&TRQ, Miles mentions three. I’ve made Clark 4 years younger than Miles (2 years older than Mark). I see those four years as being a huge gulf when Miles was 15, but not at all in adulthood.


End file.
